Even when she walks one would believe that she dances.
How little remains of the man I once was, save the memory of him! But remembering is only a new form of suffering.
Finer than any sand are dusts of gold that gleam, Vague starpoints, in the mystic iris of their eyes.
For the merchant, even honesty is a financial speculation.
God is the only being who, in order to reign, doesn't even need to exist.
A Dandy does nothing.